


five times.

by redblue



Category: All For the Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: And so do the Foxes, Dan & Matt make short appearances, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Stabbing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-31
Updated: 2016-03-31
Packaged: 2018-05-30 09:50:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6419083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redblue/pseuds/redblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The five times Andrew doesn't say he loves Neil, and the one time he does.</p>
            </blockquote>





	five times.

**Author's Note:**

> Because I think that it's inevitable.

**i.**

The summer is unforgiving. It is a whirlwind of messes, a splatter of recruitment and odd ease. Everyone’s finding their ground, moving themselves forward from the past and yet holding onto it as tightly as possible.

It has been their hardest, most strenuous year yet. And it had also been their best. The year they were most proud of.

That’s why the summer is so torturous. It’s a time of peace, a time of a relief. And yet, their ferocity has grown, and the Foxes are not ones to settle down, even after victory. 

Their strength is in their fight.

 

When no one else is looking (or so he thinks), Andrew watches Neil like Neil was born of divinity. And Neil, a god or a warrior or a hero or some other stupid sentimental bullshit, breathes with life that is too magnificent and too beautiful for Andrew. 

And Neil looks at Andrew the same way, which simply destroys him. He despises it. The way blue eyes shine on him, like Andrew is worth a damn, and he just knows, he knows, that Neil feels the same about him, and it is a quiet and fuming feeling within him. This mutual thing. A stare always returned, always full of an affection he still could not describe or completely understand.

There’s something wrong about it, Andrew suggests to himself, but he knows he’s wrong. There’s nothing wrong about it. Because with his eyes on Neil, and Neil’s eyes on him, it feels fucking right. And every time their eyes meet, and that silent conversation happens between them, and they reflect one another so well, and they indulge in the sight of each other until it’s hard to breath, Andrew feels foreign words on his tongue.

But he never says it, because their eyes are enough.

 

**ii.**

Andrew does not give two shits about conversations that don’t involve him, but if he hears Neil’s hushed voice, it’s almost an impulse to pause and eavesdrop.

The beginning of autumn is hot, and the window sits open despite the humid air. Andrew’s leaning forward from the desk, smoke lit under his nose, and then he hears Neil’s frantic hushing from their bedroom door. At first, he thinks something’s wrong, so he only snubs out his cigarette and gets up in his usual stony silence. But when he comes closer, he can hear Neil and Nicky whispering to one another from behind the bedroom door.

“Nicky, stop -”

“I just don’t understand! How can you two be so distant and so close at the same time?”

He hears Neil sigh. “We’re not distant. You just… you wouldn’t be able to understand.”

“You’re right, I don’t!” Nicky huffs, and Andrew can tell he’s really worked up about it, despite their relationship being none of his business. “I mean, I’m happy for you guys. So, so happy. But you don’t even go on dates! You haven’t even told him you ‘like’ him! That’s crazy.”

There’s a pause, like Neil is struggling to find a way to reply. “He knows how I feel about him. It works for us. The things we do make us happy.”

“But does he know? Does he _really_ know?”

Neil’s patience is getting thin because he grinds out, “Yes. He knows. Just because we don’t do things your way doesn’t mean it works any less for us.”

There’s silence for a second, and Andrew knows Nicky is frowning and feeling guilty for making Neil snap.

“No, I know, it’s just - I’m worried sometimes, ya know? I want you and Andrew to work out so badly -”

“We will.”

“- And I want him to know how you feel -”

“He does.”

“And I want you guys to be happy.”

“We are! Nicky, listen to me. Me and Andrew? We’re good. He understands me, and I understand him. Sure, we don’t have a traditional relationship, but it works for us. No one else will ever work for me, and I think - no, I _know_ , that he feels the same way. We’re confident about that.” He pauses, perhaps giving Nicky a stern look, though Andrew still can’t see. “I don’t want you bringing this up, okay? And next time you worry about it, just know it’s fine.”

There’s a long, stretched out pause in the conversation, and Andrew thinks it’s over, until he hears Nicky’s last question, a whisper just as quiet as Neil’s soft yelling had been.

“Do you love him?”

Andrew can’t feel his fingertips, and he misses the feeling of the cigarette on his mouth, but he stays to listen anyway. The air around him is icy as the silence expands, and he has a sudden need to burst into the room and flick Nicky in his forehead and cover Neil’s mouth before he answers because there’s no doubt that he’d answer with something so ridiculously stupid -

“Yes.”

When they come out of the room a few minutes later, Andrew is smoking the other half of his stubbed out cigarette and staring out the window, as uncaring as usual.

 

**iii.**

It’s a morning in winter. A few days before winter break, where Andrew and Neil were still deciding whether they were going to stay in South Carolina for dorm shenanigans and Columbia and late night Exy practices. The other option was going with Matt to New York because, yet again, he had invited them along to his house. Andrew had already rejected the offer but it wasn’t truly off their list of options yet.

Andrew wakes up first, tentative and soft. It’s still dark outside their window, a morning before dawn breaks. For once, there’s no panic nor lingering of nightmares. It’s just him, and the weight of Neil at his side.

A few minutes later, the first beginnings of a very pale sunrise creep through the curtains. Finally, Neil’s face is visible in the dimness, and Andrew extends his knuckles to reach over the side of his hair, fingers touching his bangs. Neil hums, gentle and small, and after a moment, blue eyes flicker open.

Andrew’s back is to the wall, facing Neil, and Neil faces him, too. As the younger wakes up, bleary eyes taking in the touch and the sight of Andrew’s blank stare, a lazy smile crosses his lips. They lay like that for a bit and let the quiet blanket over them, a tranquility of sorts. Kevin is breathing steadily to himself in his sleep, and with the light barely risen, they find comfort in each other’s company.

Eventually, Andrew has to get out of the bed because there’s practice and he can’t function without coffee. A second later, he hears a stifled yawn and then Neil’s footsteps padding out behind him. He lets the coffee machine run while they stand together and, with a tired, apathetic movement, Neil gives Andrew a short, lingering kiss.

Andrew says nothing but quirks an eyebrow at him, because while kisses are their kingdom, their duels often wait until they’re actually fully awake. Neil only looks at him with tired, crinkled eyes.

“G’morning,” he murmurs, a perfect tone for the darkness of dawn. Then he points at Andrew’s shoulder and neck. “Can I?”

Andrew hums, but doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, the coffee stops pouring and he moves to stir his cup. Neil stays where he is, though, expectant. Waiting to sooth his ache.

Eventually, Andrew leans back to the counter and sips his coffee. Neil’s stare never leaves him, and Andrew watches back.

Like most of their shared mornings, or any of their other silent moments, they burn with a hushed discretion and not a desperate rage.

When they stare at each other another minute too long, Andrew finally cracks. He nods, but gives the verbal go for such a small touch. “Yes.”

So Neil (still half asleep yet so viciously and passionately obedient to the consent of touch) leans his forehead on the crook of Andrew’s shoulder and neck, and rests while Andrew drinks his coffee. After a few minutes, Neil’s breaths level out, and Andrew tugs his earlobe to wake him again.

Neil grumbles something, incoherent, then grabs his own cup of coffee. 

They sit on the bean bag chairs with their mugs, soaking in the silence, and Andrew feels it on the tip of his tongue. But he says nothing.

 

**iv.**

In the spring, the sky is a desolate blue. It reaches beyond the horizon in the middle of the day, still and calm. The blue stretches, no clouds in sight, and Neil has his back on the rooftop.

It’s their place, and today feels better than most. The air is perfect; there’s no rain in sight. 

For once, there are no lit cigarettes and no alcohol. It’s just them and the never-ending blue. Andrew, surprisingly, was laying next to Neil. Both of them stared at the sky, peaceful in each other’s company.

Neil was being a little shit (not surprising).

“So I was looking at the website…”

“Neil.”

“No, listen, I was looking at it and it’s not expensive at all. We can fly or -”

Andrew gave him a look. Neil changed his appeal immediately.

“I mean, we can drive. That’s obviously the best option… It’s about eight hours but I don’t mind if it’s just us. Think about it. It’d be so much fun.”

Andrew only looks at the sharp shades of blue above him. He won’t outright say no, but he doesn’t want to agree. He hates the idea, and he hates Neil for asking it of him.

“The other’s are gonna want to come.”

“Let them. It’ll be fun.”

Andrew exhales. He says the words like he’s been defeated, and now had to get used to their shape on his tongue. “Disney World, huh?”

“I’ve never been to an amusement park. Neither have you. I want to go together.” Andrew doesn’t reply for awhile, so Neil keeps rambling. “I mean, if you’re really uncomfortable I’ll drop it. I just think it’ll be fun. Spring break is gonna be boring either way, and we have the time to spare, so I just think -”

“I’ll go.”

Neil stops. He inhales. And then, a warm smile breaks out across his face. “Really?”

“Yes. Just to shut you up.”

Neil leans up to put his elbow beside Andrew’s head. He leans down, kissing him, and pulls back. He’s just staring there, and it’s that same damn stare he hates. The one that tells him Neil is happy, that Neil is engulfed with affection and that Neil is content. That he is simply infatuated and charmed by Andrew. 

That Neil is the essence of joy, just by being in Andrew’s presence.

And it’s too much for him, so he reaches up and kisses Neil again, hard.

 

**v.**

The road trip back from Disney World is ridiculous. 

Andrew doesn’t hate it.

The trees beside the highway entrap them, dusk finally coming to a crawl.

They’d went to the amusement park with the whole team, unfortunately, though Neil seemed to enjoy it. Every line was a nightmare, but Neil stuck close to Andrew all day, blocking his body from any stranger’s touch. The rides were kind of fun, though Andrew would never admit that aloud. They’d seen fireworks at the end of the night, and had walked around Downtown Disney. Neil bought Andrew a bunch of chocolaty, horrible sweets, and Andrew bought Neil a pair of mouse ears.

Which Neil was still wearing in the car.

But they weren’t talking, which was okay. They’d spent yesterday so infused with energy and excitement that today was pure exhaustion. Because it was a weekday, the road was fairly empty. Neil had spent the first half driving, but halfway when they stopped for restroom breaks and gas, Andrew got into the driver’s seat.

For a good half hour, it was quiet, and Andrew just thought Neil had fallen asleep.

But then Neil turns his head away from the window and opens his palm. “Hand?”

For a second, Andrew’s confused, but then he pulls his right hand from the wheel and places it in Neil’s left. Neil smiles, short and tired, and laces his fingers with his boyfriend’s. 

“Thank you. I had a lot of fun.”

Andrew clicked his tongue, but Neil only grinned.

“Oh, shut up. I know you had fun on Space Mountain. And Tower of Terror.”

Andrew rolled his eyes. “I was slightly amused because Nicky’s screams sounded ghastly.”

Neil chuckled. “Yeah. I’m still not sure why he refused to sit out. And they call me stubborn…”

It grew quiet for a moment, and then Neil lifted the back of Andrew’s hand to his lips.

“Did you have fun?”

It’s a minute before Andrew answers. “Yeah. I did.”

And it’s almost, _almost_ , the actual answer he wanted to give.

But it’s still not completely right.

 

**the one time he does.**

For the first time ever, the Foxes beat the Ravens before the Ravens could even get to the finale Spring Championship game. It was USC against the Foxes, and the Foxes won.

But the Ravens weren’t happy.

First, the Foxes took their victory. Then, they took Riko. And here they were, taking the victory yet again.

The Ravens were improving, though. New coaches and new members made the team different than they were under the Moriyama’s rule. However, there were a select few from Riko’s old team that had been building up a slithering rage; an ominous cloud loomed over them, and they seethed with an idiotic vengeance.

No one was expecting it; certainly not when the Foxes were so full of mirth, their second Championship win leaving them jubilant.

 

Andrew wakes up on the Sunday after their season’s final win. It’s decently early, but Neil isn’t in the room. He’s likely out for a morning run, which is where he usually is. Andrew gets up, makes himself coffee, and smokes a cigarette. Awhile later, Kevin comes into the room to eat breakfast and talk about the game, which he had not shut up about for almost 48 hours.

Eventually Nicky knocks on the front door and joins them, Matt and Dan following close behind.

“We’re thinking of going out with everyone for lunch,” Nicky says, looking over at Andrew and Kevin. “Abby and Wymack are gonna join, too.”

Kevin agrees and Andrew continues smoking, making no comment. They don’t expect an answer from him - he’ll go if Neil does, and Neil always went out for team meals.

Matt looked around the room. “Where’s Neil?”

“Morning run,” Andrew replies. He puts his cigarette out and goes to the bathroom for his shower. Behind him, he can hear Dan organizing their lunch plans.

“Then we’ll leave after Neil gets back and showers. That’ll give everyone time to get ready.”

And it did. Neil often took long runs, as if chasing out the overwhelming triumph within him. His runs seemed to increase in length every time Neil had a burning excitement which was impossible to discard. Sometimes they went on for a whole hour.

And yet, much after Andrew got out of the shower and dressed, and after all the teammates had gathered in Andrew and Kevin’s room, ready to go for lunch, and after hours of waiting around for Neil and chatting or playing video games to pass the time, Neil still hadn’t returned. 

Andrew and Nicky had both texted him. Andrew texted once, and Nicky texted more than five times and eventually called him. The longer they sat around, the more anxious they got.

Finally, about two hours after Andrew had woken up, Neil called his phone. He told everyone to quiet down (since all his teammates sitting on the floor in their living room was becoming a bit rowdy) and answered.

“If you were were at the court this whole time, I -” Andrew cut off suddenly, spine straightening. There was noise at the other end. They weren’t whole words, but it felt like someone was grasping for a sentence. As he quieted, it was easier to hear. The voice from the other end was gasping and sputtering. 

Andrew felt the spark of destruction revive itself within him, a race through his veins that he has not felt in a long, long time. It is consuming, piercing, and eyes grow darker than they’ve been in months. He is the personified image of a storm, the quick snap of lightning, and he is ready to devour anything in his path.

His voice is tight when he speaks. “Neil.”

But the other end just produces a choking sound, a crumbling whimper. Andrew’s already at his desk, grabbing his keys. Every single Fox had stood the moment Andrew went still. His aura was a current, and it snaked throughout the room, stinging them along the way. Dan was closest to him, and she felt it like a contagious plague. Her face was stern.

Andrew pointed at her. “911.” Then he pointed at Matt. “Search campus.”

Then he left, and the others followed behind them. They walked fast, a bundle of an army, all-knowing. They were used to Neil being in trouble - it had just been a long time since it last happened.

Andrew was still on the phone when he got into his car. As he turned the vehicle on and peeled out of the parking lot, he was speaking through the line. “I’m coming to get you. Just tell me where you are, okay?” More wheezing and gasping, but they were becoming softer now. “Neil. Listen to me. Listen. You are not going to die, or I will fucking wreck havoc on you in the afterlife.”

But the short, whimpering gasps on the other end were quieting now. Andrew kept talking as he drove, following the path that Neil sometimes ran. He’s talking to Neil, urging him to speak, but the other end soon becomes completely silent. Andrew is cursing, mumbling ‘fuck’ every turn he makes, yelling at Neil to answer him.

Eventually, as he drives around a parking lot that lines up with Perimeter Road, he sees people nearing in a small crowd. There’s about three people standing, and two or three more people are running over. Andrew yanks the car into a parking spot and gets out. He’s running, phone open and gripped in his hand. Far away, where his subconscious can still understand, there are sirens.

But all he sees is a figure, face down in the grass. His jacket has a paw on it, and at the top it reads, “JOSTEN.” Through the fabric is a ripped hole, and red seeps out from the clothes. In the time since it had happened, whenever that may be, the blood had spread almost completely over his whole back. It stained the grass beside him.

Andrew shoves the group aside viciously, pulling at their collars. “Move! Get the fuck out of my way.” And then he’s on the ground with searching (shaking) fingers. He turns the body over, slowly and gently, so fiercely opposite of his strumming heart. It thumps against his chest, banging against his skin. It feels like he’ll scream, but when the body is on its back, and he sees Neil, beautiful as always before him, he can only whisper.

“Neil,” only loud enough for them to hear. The sirens pull closer. His fingers push dark hair from Neil’s face, then travel to his cheek where he holds his palm there. He feels the tiniest flicker of an exhale through Neil’s nose, and it’s almost a physical flinch that roars through him, relief and anger both fighting within him.

Neil’s skin is cold, but Andrew leans right over him, willing the warmth of his palm to travel over Neil’s face. Andrew presses his forehead against Neil’s and speaks to him in a low, tormented voice. It’s strained, but he keeps it just for them. 

“You are not allowed to do this. Hey.” He cups his hand tighter, right over his burn scars, and his eyes squeeze tighter closed, too. The storm inside him is about to crack down and split the earth beneath their feet. “Hey. I love you. I do, so -” His whole body is shaking. He feels like he can eat whoever did this whole then spit them out and tear whatever remains limb from limb. “I do, so… so don’t do this to the team... to me.”

 

Almost a full 48 hours later, when the surgery goes well and the doctors tell them it was “very close” and Neil is just starting to wake up, the detectives move in to ask him about the perpetrator. But he only demands his team (predictable as always).

And when Andrew finally comes in, strangely unlike himself, staring at the ground and not ahead of him (it’s the first time since his childhood that he’s looked anywhere but forward), Neil sits up despite the horrid wound in his body. He groans out, and Andrew finally looks at him. Neil gives a little smile, half broken, and gestures with his hand for Andrew to come closer.

Andrew does not hesitate. The sight of Neil, alive, seems to forcefully fall atop him all at once. When he heard it in the waiting room earlier, it had been a nausea-inducing relief. Now it was a full-body experience, and he came to Neil’s side at the bed. Neil reached out for his hand without a second thought, and Andrew squeezed tight.

“You’re an idiot.”

Neil grinned. “Yeah.”

“If I get my hands on them first, I’m killing them.”

Neil just looked at him. “We’ll figure it out. Come here.” 

Andrew obliged and edged forward. Neil leaned only a little bit forward before he could reach what he was aiming for. He pressed a kiss to the corner of Andrew’s mouth, then pulled away. Andrew looked at him. His expression would seem normal to any other, but the look in his eyes was pleading and burned by sorrow.

“I thought that you…”

Neil shook his head. “Sh, it’s fine now -”

“I love you.”

It’s abrupt, and Neil’s eyebrows lift in a silent question. There’s a pause, and then Neil’s mouth lifts into a grin. It hadn’t been in the circumstances he’d wanted, but Andrew needed to get it out. Neil had come too close this time, and death had brushed up close to him. These words were so simple, so juvenile, and he needed Neil to know them and their truth.

Neil laughed. “You’ve got amazing timing.”

“You’re such a fucking -”

“Me too.” Andrew stops as Neil speaks, and their words are just murmurs in a passed breath. “I mean, I think it was pretty obvious, and it’s probably been more than a year since I first thought it, but… I love you, too. I am very, very in love with you, Andrew”

Neil shakes his head, the echo of a laugh still in the air. “Man, I really wanted to say it first. You’re such an ass.”

Andrew can’t help it. He presses a kiss to Neil's temple, mostly to hide the growing smile on his lips. It feels too big, too genuine, and he doesn’t want to show Neil this weird, disfigured happiness. It’s too personal, like his face is bleeding with what he feels inside.

“Idiot.”


End file.
